Our Man in Iraq (24 page)

The wrinkles around her eyes danced in a smile of irony. “Don’t be so direct.”

“They’ve lifted it!” Markatović yelled over the phone.

He’d woken me up.

“Turn on your computer. Check the shares, they’re moving again.” His ribs had healed admirably. His bottom lip was still a bit thick in the middle but it kind of suited him, and he’d had a crown put on his front tooth.

I did as he told me and finally I saw the ticker working. RIJB-R-A. Right at the start it’d gone up eight percent.

“This could be my rescue.”

“It’ll get even better. It has to. There’s still some way to go to my price, but it’ll make it. It has to, it’ll saunter its way up!”

“I’m sure it will.” That impulse to be heartening was automatic, just like it had been in the past.

We’d known for some time that the situation with the bank had to be resolved because the government had taken over the majority share and bailed out the debts. The incident was no cause for jubilation, but the Rijeka region heaved a sigh of relief, as did Markatović and I. We’d just been waiting for them to lift the ban on trading so we could recoup the money we’d invested—back when we were other people.

Now things came full circle.

“I only want to get my money back—that’s my target. When I make it to zero, I’m getting out,” Markatović vowed.

“You’ll make it to zero, take it easy.”

“If I make it to zero—you’ll make a packet, fuck a duck.”

“We’ll see,” I said. I didn’t want to take the wind out of his sails, but I had no intention of waiting till the shares reached his price. I was dead-set: I didn’t want to get into that game. I remembered that drunken, coke-ridden night.

“Keep me posted, will ya? I have a meeting and can’t watch,” Markatović said.

I stayed at the computer. The stock market and all its numbers kept changing, and I watched the RIJB-R-A transactions. The sale price kept rising.

Just a bit longer and I’d exit that game.

The shopping center at the edge of the neighborhood was no different from any other. They all looked like small medieval towns—a castle and several narrow streets.

Here you finally had the right to stare emptily. Some people went to yoga or meditation to reach out into emptiness; I came here. I walked around slowly, peered at the shelves, touched a few things, and stared into nothingness. There were people here too, but it felt as if there weren’t.

Finding a cart at the entrance, which resembled a triumphal arch, someone patted me on the shoulder and I heard a female voice: “Hey!”

Sanja.

She raised her dark glasses. I’d probably looked apprehensive, because her face was apologetic.

We held perfectly still for a moment, as if we didn’t know what to do with our bodies. Then we kissed each other on the
cheeks, not getting too close. I stepped back from that familiar scent of her perfume.

“Where did you come from?” I asked.

“Oh, you know.” She looked as if she was both glad and uncomfortable to see me. “So how are you doing?”

“OK. And you?”

“OK.”

I got the impression she didn’t want to say things were great so it wouldn’t seem she was doing wonderfully without me. But that’s how she looked—great.

“You look different,” she said in a gentle voice, with an insecure smile.

She shouldn’t have said that, I felt. I’ve got over that persona. It can’t be reconstructed.

“It feels strange seeing you,” I said.

“You know, I’m in a hurry,” she said.

“Sure, ok.” I started to turn away when she stopped me.

“You can come with me if you want.”

She checked her phone. She had a strange new hairdo.

“Where to?”

“You’ll think it’s crazy. But look over there, at checkout number six. Do you see?”

I nodded.

“At 4:00 we’re going to do something. Me and a few girls. You can join in. It’ll only take about twenty seconds.”

Twenty seconds? What girls? She seemed to be alone.

“What are you going to do?”

“We’re going to shout, ‘We are the cham-pi-gnons”,’ she laughed.

Once, this probably would have made sense to me.

“We are the champions? Like in the song?”

She saw that I didn’t understand, and I saw a trace of anxiety that she tried to cover up with a smile. I could read
every grimace and gesture on her face; that was bound to be mutual.

“Champignons!” she said

“As in the mushroom? Why?”

“There’s no sense in it. None at all.”

We were standing slightly stiff, taking care not to make any false movement from the past.

“I’m just shopping.”

“I just thought. Never mind,” she said and looked at the time again. “I’m off!”

She vanished among the shoppers. I pushed the cart and set off behind her to see what would happen. She was close to checkout number six when she turned around and saw me. She winked.

Girls converged from various directions. Ela was among them. Doc and Jerman.

I let go of the cart.

It came suddenly and thunderously loud. “WE ARE THE CHAM-PI-GNONS!”

People were staring. I joined in and we yelled a second time: “WE ARE THE CHAM-PI-GNONS!”

Suddenly the others dispersed. I also got a move on. I pushed my cart as if nothing had happened.

My heart was beating hard. I looked back toward checkout number six. We'd escaped them.

One checkout girl was showing another where we’d been standing.

There was nothing where we’d been except for the shiny floor.

I felt a strange flux of happiness. We’d simply disappeared.